Wilted Roses
by BeautifulMess
Summary: Spike, Dawn, and the Scoobies attempt to cope after Buffy's death in "The Gift." SD friendship. WIP
1. Roses

So. This isn't great. I know. Give me feedback please! Constructive criticism is needed! And, if anyone likes, I have the next few chapters written.  
  
Disclaimer..I don't own any of them. They all belong to Joss. But, oh, to own Spike.  
  
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Spike fell to his knees in front of Buffy's grave and leaned his forehead against the cool granite of her headstone.  
  
"Why? I ask myself that every night, love. Why couldn't I get there sooner? Why couldn't I kill that little demon bastard? Why couldn't I save Dawn...Save you?"  
  
He paused, clearing his throat and settling back on his haunches. Roses in different stages of wilting and decay were scattered around her grave. 132. One for every night she had been gone.  
  
"I-I promised you I would protect Little Bit. Huh, I guess she's not so little anymore. You should see her, love. She's grown up. But-God-she's like the rest of us. All of us. She's dead inside. Her eyes...they're empty and haunted. None of us know what to do without you. Cor, Slayer, you always knew. And when you didn't you pretended you did.  
  
"The whlep- Xander -and Anya are gettin' married. I would give my unlife for you to be able to see them together. They're the best off of us. They have someone.  
  
"The witches aren't gettin' on so well. Willow's been...a zombie. And Tara just.. is We all just are. We're lost, Buffy. We don't know what to do.  
  
"I swore I'd protect Dawn to the end of the world, and so help me I will, but... I can't protect her from herself. She-She's the worst off. I haven't heard her speak in days. She's not eating."  
  
He thought of Dawn-his Dawn- with her pale skin stretched over her bones. The dark circles under her dead, emotionless eyes. The absence of her tinkling laughter and the shine of her beautiful smile. His Dawn was dead. She as well as the others had died along with Buffy that night.  
  
The tears spilled over. The scarlet smearing across the alabaster of his face. They spilled over onto the wilted roses and shone in the moonlight.  
  
"Tell me what to do, Buffy. I need you. We need you," he sobbed, his head thrown skyward. Overcome with grief, Spike pitched forward and clung to the cold rock. The only thing he had left of his fallen Slayer. The only thing he could hold onto.  
  
He wept until he was exhausted before he laid the night's rose-a red so dark it was almost black-on the ground and walked into the night. Towards Dawn and the others. Towards home. 


	2. Auras

Spike pushed the door to the Summer's home open slowly and cringed when it squeaked.  
  
"Time to get some WD40," he mumbled, making a mental note to pick some up. He hung his dusted over the banister and went into the kitchen.  
  
Dawn looked up from her perch on the counter and forced a weak smile.  
  
"What's wrong, Nibblet? You get on up to bed now, pet," he told her, his voice was stern but fatherly.  
  
Thump. Thump. Thump. Dawn's feet hit the side of the counter rythmically. The sound echoed throughout the nearly empty house.  
  
"Can't sleep. Had another dream." Her feet stopped swinging and she looked at him with her big blue eyes. "I miss her so much."  
  
Spike looked away, not able to meet her pain-filled gaze; not able to let her see his tears. "Me too, Nibblet. Me too."  
  
Needing to be held, Dawn jumped off the counter with her sister's grace and hugged Spike. Without a second thought he wrapped his strong arms around her, holding her tightly to himself. After a moment, he let go and directed her to the stairs.  
  
"I'll be in your mum's room. Get on up to bed." Spike followd her upstairs and turned to Buffy's room. He had never mustered up the courage to go in there. All he could do was stand in the doorway, taking in everything of her he could.  
  
The essence of the girl, not the Slayer.  
  
From the butterflies on the green and white walls, to Mr Gordo the pig on her shelf, back to the cross on her lamp, and finally to her vamity. The top was covered in makeup, vanilla perfume bottles, and candles. A double picture frame rested on the back corner. In one side was a photo of her, Willow, and Xander. To it's left was a picture of herself, her mother, and Dawn. A leather jacket hung off the back of the vanity's chair, while clean clothes were stacked neatly on the seat.  
  
Not for the first time, Spike noticed her bed was unmade. The sheets were wrinkled and pushed to one side, the pillows still laying where she had left them.  
  
He leaned lightly on the doorjamb, deciding if tonight was the night he would go in. With grim determination he took one step and entered her room. Immedeatly he was surrounded by her. Blinking back sudden tears, Spike wandered around the small room slowly. The vampire lightly trailed his fingertips over her chair, fingering the worn leather of her jacket. He lifted it and inhaled the scent- Leather, vanilla, and ginger. In short- Buffy.  
  
He moved to the bed, letting the soft creme colored silk sheets slip through his fingers. A few strands of long blonde hair were on the pillowcases.  
  
Entirely overwhelmed by her aura, Spike collapsed. His knees simply gave out and he sank onto the bed. He held his head in his hands as he wept. Crimson tears slid down his cheeks, overflowed his hands and stained the the creme silk. 


	3. Discoveries

Hearing Spike's sobs, Dawn got out of bed and padded down the hall to her mom's-Spike, she told herself-Spike's room. But it was empty; the sobs came from next door. Buffy's room, a room she hadn't been in for 132 days. She peeked her head in and her broken hear skipped a beat when she saw him. Doubled over in grief, head in hands, tears of blood streaming down his chisled face.  
  
Memories of the night-or was it morning?-came rushing back to her.  
  
You have to take care of them now. You have to take care of each other. You have to be strong.  
  
Tears of her own welled up in her own eyes and she slipped into the room quietly. Dawn unconsciously held her breat has she took a seat next to her guardian.  
  
Be brave. Live. For me.  
  
Remebering her sister's last words, the girl enveloped Spike in her arms. His strong body was quaking from the sobs, distracting him enough so that he was only partially aware of the warm, strong arms around him. Dawn gently laid him down so his head was in her lap and she cooed and whispered while rubbing his back in an effort to calm him. She was so concerned with comforting the vampire, she was only vaugly aware of being in Buffy's room.  
  
Slowly, Spike's sobs subsided and he lifted his head wearily. He glanced around the room again and found himself fighting tears once again. The soothing caress of Dawn's hand on his back brought him crashing to reality. his blood shot eyes took in the now red sheets, Dawn's blood-stained lap, his bloody hands and the girl's eyes. Those sweet doe eyes, so full of strength and pain and heartache.  
  
In that singular moment, Spike saw how much of Buffy was in his Dawn. 


End file.
